Archive | December 12, 2016

That’s Kami’s first instinct when shit gets a little too real for her peace of mind.

Kink was supposed to be an escape, a release, but her mysterious Dom robbed her of that and there’s no going back. Her job was supposed to be an accomplishment, a step forward, but Mr. Kress took that from her and twisted it to his own design.

They want her to submit.

If Kami had her way, they’d both be kissing her ass on her way out the door.

Now, there’s a new threat hanging over her head. An unknown enemy wants to expose all of Kami’s sordid, depraved secrets to the media. Little do they know, that even she has no clue who in the hell she really is…but someone does.

Someone who’s about to reveal an incomprehensible tale. A truth that will unravel Kami’s entire life at the seams. Everything she’s ever believed will be altered as she’s thrust into a world she’d never feared existed, and only one undeniable fact will ring through the loudest:

With her sight disabled, she became more aware that the group behind her were quite chatty and flirty. She also grew increasingly aware of the man whose legs were caging her in, whose lap her bound arms were resting upon. She felt the approach of his heat, and then his hand touched her face. His fingers outlined her lips, played at the seam, before crawling their way inside. They conducted a shallow inspection at first, but gradually sank deeper. The first time she gagged, she thought he would retreat, but she was sadly mistaken. The more she choked, the deeper and more aggressively he stroked his fingers in and out. Kami could feel her eyes watering under the blindfold as she did everything in her power to keep from retching all over him.
Grabbing her bound wrists, he yanked her into his hard chest as he continued to finger-fuck her throat.
“If you can’t even take my fingers, demon, how the hell do you plan on taking my cock?”
Once again his tone was mocking, but there was amusement behind it, rather than the cool displeasure he’d offered the anti-blindfold committee. Kami understood the question was rhetorical. Regardless if she could take it or not, his cock would be down her throat if and when he wanted—and he undoubtedly hoped she choked on it. A strange, rubbery noise sounded right before her. He’d adjusted his mask, she realized. His wet fingers abandoned the inside of her throat, cupping the curve of her jaw, and his mouth crushed down on hers.
It was a whole new kind of oral sex. That was the only way to describe the aggressive, needy assault. His tongue thrust as his lips dominated hers harder and greedier, like there was some kind of climax waiting for him at the end. A preview of his skills, or a promise that it would be the only way he would invade her body, no matter which part of himself he was using? Regardless, it was ferocious, filthy, and the best damn kiss Kami had ever experienced.
She could feel his mask bumping alongside her temple, as if he’d turned the bull snout to the side, but that meant his face was still mostly covered. He must not trust the blindfolds. Did that mean he wasn’t planning on removing the mask at all? Kami hoped not. She wanted him to keep it on. That way her imagination could continue filling in the blanks the way she wanted them, rather than chance being disappointed by reality. She didn’t care how damn shallow that made her. This was her night, and it was already panning out better than any Halloween before it, so no. She didn’t want anything to ruin it.
“Mmm, you taste foolishly brave,” he groaned quietly as he licked and nibbled at her lips, diving back in for one last devastating kiss.
Settling back in the seat, he returned the mask to its rightful place and forced her down onto her knees again. His thumb picked up its previous stroking over her lips, but when her bound wrists slid down the hard plane of his stomach and into his lap, there was no mistaking the bulging line of his erection. The feel of it had her lust spreading hotter, dampening her panties with desperate anticipation.
She earned a soft mocking laugh when she started rubbing her arms over the steely line.
“You like knowing what you do to my cock, demon? How hard you make it just by choking on my fingers?” he asked. “Is that what you were hoping to accomplish while you were dancing for me?”
If he was trying to embarrass her with that insight, he was going to be disappointed. Knowing he knew, that he’d been aware, only turned her on more.
“No, but it’s a start,” she replied.
He laughed appreciatively at that, and it was far more sinister than his mocking laugh. “Ambition and Greed go hand-in-hand, little one. As you said, it’s a start.”
He wanted her to be greedy? He probably shouldn’t have told her that. Before she could reply, the limo slowed to a stop, reigniting the thrill of uncertainty. When the driver opened the door, her bull man climbed out first, then reached inside and hauled her out by the waist.
Once she was on her feet, he grabbed her bound wrists and started leading her across old asphalt. Her heels clicked and wobbled in the rough patches. She thought she heard water lapping and a nearby buoy. It definitely smelled like the docks. The way the noise and voices echoed indicated they were surrounded by warehouses or giant shipping containers.
Again, it should have been a red flag, but Kami wasn’t afraid, only morbidly curious. It took her a moment to realize they were drawing closer to the pulsing bass of music. Her escort paused for a moment before a door opened and it washed over them loud and clear. They stopped directly inside to wait for everyone. When the metal door finally closed, her bull man untied the blindfold.
Blinking in the dimly lit entrance, Kami saw that it was a makeshift foyer with draping velveteen crimson, black-and-white jack-o-lanterns, Gothic candelabras, antiqued mirrors, and other décor that would indicate they were getting ready to enter a vampire’s secret lair. Even the music thumping and crawling over her flesh was more along the lines of Screamo-Goth-Rave, than the Dubstep bass would suggest.
“You know, there are at least a hundred different horror movies that begin this way,” she referred to the space around them by drawing a small square in the air with her index fingers.
A more difficult task than one would think with bound wrists.
“That’s what makes decorating so easy,” he said, pulling her against his body to slip a hand under her skirt and take his fill of her ass cheek. “The question is, was that just an observation or cold feet?”
“My feet never get cold,” she replied.
She barely heard the low rumble of his laugh when he bowed his head right beside her ear. “Careful, demon. Some might take that answer as a deliberate challenge.”

A.C. Melody is a quirky, unconventional and often contrary (mostly to herself) hybrid author, both traditionally and self-published. She has a soft spot for hard ass alphas and the strong women who capture their hearts. Her favorite part of writing, is having the ability to explore her favorite subjects from angels she’s never read before. Also, she loves putting her characters through the ringer one way or another, to expose all of the various facets that make them tick.

Outside of writing, A.C. is a confessed javaholic who loves reading, music, gaming, American Football, ancient civilizations, foreign cultures and everything supernatural. She has an insatiable curiosity that tends to earn her more hobbies than time. You can find her in the beautifully green Pacific Northwest with her two teenage sons and two blue-eyed, Himalayan-Siamese mixes who think they own the joint.

After a brutal war between Humans and Metas, an uneasy truce is declared in the Seldova solar system. After the treaty signing, the Complex is created on the lone planet, Lorn—a blended community of Humans and Metas, all sent to test the waters of a more peaceful existence between the two races. Living in a domed society can only mean one thing for the Humans and Metas. Chaos.

Reviled banshee Aqulla Dayshon sees death, feels the last moments of a victim’s life and senses the echoes they leave behind. They call for vengeance, and she is helpless to deny their cries, to deny her very nature.

Intra Jaylon Rowe is the law within the Complex. When a series of murders hit the community, he enlists Aqulla’s help. But solving the murders won’t be easy.

Boundaries will be pushed, and rules broken. And as lines are crossed and passion ignites, a banshee’s call will scream.

Death is here, and it wants them all.

January 1st, 6 AS (Ama Seldova) Arrival Day

Jumping down from the jetter, dust flying up around her, Aqulla sucked humid air into her lungs and walked a short distance from the group she’d arrived with. The space ride to Lorn hadn’t been enjoyable. It was just her luck she’d been seated next to a woman who’d killed her husband in a rage when she’d found him cheating. Part of Aqulla appreciated what the woman had done. Put in the same situation, she was certain she’d do the same, but that didn’t apply to the Banshee within—the hungry, bloodthirsty side of her that called for death. Denying that part of herself wasn’t easy. It was a battle she’d contended with most of her life.

“Hey! Don’t wander off. Get in line.”

Turning, Aqulla narrowed her eyes at the Intra solider, then looked in the direction he was indicating for her to go. Breath rushing out between clenched teeth, Aqulla almost turned around and climbed back aboard the jetter; maybe fifteen years in prison would actually be a better deal than the Complex.

“Move along!”

“All right, all right, jeez,” she hissed back, baring teeth.

The Complex stood tall and proud in the distance, its silver walls like glittering gems. The harsh sun reflected off the many domes, making it almost unbearable to look at. The center dome was by far the widest. Its sides sloped off behind two pointed domes at either side. At its base was a low rectangular shape that ran the length of the Complex. Aqulla gazed up, shielding her eyes but couldn’t make out the top; it soared into the sky, disappearing behind low hazy clouds. It was a massive, intimidating structure, a stark reminder that the Ama Seldova—the governing body and leaders of the new “peaceful” regime—were watching. Its gleaming walls might be a far cry from the dank cell she’d left, but The Complex was still a cell. A gilded cage she’d have to survive for the next two and a half years.

Walking forward, Aqulla was herded toward the many lines of people waiting to enter the community. She breathed a sigh of relief when the husband killer was shown to a different line, but it was short lived. It seemed the Complex was full of killers. Death’s echo lingered everywhere. But the lines weren’t only made up of criminals. Gazing across the rows, Aqulla could make out the lines of “nice” clientele. Even from this distance she could feel their disapproving stares, make out their rich-man clothes.

They’ll last five minutes with these lot. She smiled to herself, kicking the ground. Though I wonder what secrets they hide. If it had taken monetary bribes to get convicts, some on life sentences, to join the experiment, then what had it taken to get volunteers who already had money and “privileged” lives?

Taking another step, Aqulla ground her teeth together in an effort to keep from shifting. The Meta in front of her reeked of death; he’d killed so many. Aqulla couldn’t make out the individual echoes. He was a mass of swirling darkness threatening to pull her under. But she couldn’t give in to her natural instincts, no matter how much she wanted too. The Complex was her ticket to freedom, her only way to wipe out the past and maybe make amends with her family. Then hopefully, her grandmother wouldn’t see her as a stain on the family’s reputation. She’d be allowed back into the banshee coven, and they’d see she that she could live with the power of her gifts.

The line moved one more excruciating step further. Aqulla released a deep breath and slid her eyes shut. The line was impossibly long. Too long. Her mind wandered, picturing blood splattering the floor, the gargled breath of a man taking his last breath.

“What’s the matter, princess?”

Aqulla’s eyes shot opened as the Meta in front turned and fixed her in his sights. A slow, cruel smile spread on his face. Aqulla struggled to hold onto her vision. The screams of the people he’d murdered wrapped around her, calling for vengeance. The line moved along, but the Meta moved closer to her.

Claws sliding out, Aqulla fisted her hands. The sharp points of her claws dug into her palms drawing blood. The pain grounded her, brought her back from the very fine edge she was skating.

It didn’t stop the Meta, though. He was huge, towering a good few feet above her. His eyes were dark and full of sadistic delight as he sized her up.

“What have we here then?”

“I might look as weak as the many women you’ve tortured and murdered, but I assure you, Meta, one step closer and it will be your last.”

His head cocked to the side as he chuckled softly. “And how would you know who I’ve killed?”

Aqulla considered keeping her identity secret, but it might be the only thing that would save her. She was too close to snapping, too close to slicing her claws across his throat as she screamed her death cry.

“You’re dripping with death. I hear every scream, every whimper. They call for your blood. They want your death to be as slow and cruel as theirs. Tell me, Meta, will you run when you hear my scream?”

His face hardened. “All right, banshee, I get the picture,” he snarled, stepping away and moving to join the end of the line.

Aqulla relaxed her hands, letting out a breath of relief when a hand slid down her back and squeezed her ass. Blood rushed through her veins as her head filled with the urge to kill. Spinning, her knee slammed into his groin. As he collapsed, her claws found his throat. Blood dripped down his neck as she gazed into his eyes. This Meta had killed too, but in self-defense, not that it mattered much to Aqulla. Her scream was on the tip of her tongue. She’d begun to step over the line.

Rachel M. Raithby started her writing career in 2013 and hasn’t looked back. She draws her inspiration from the many places she has lived and traveled, as well as from her love of the paranormal and thriller movies. She can often be found hiding out with a good book or writing more fast-paced and thrilling stories where love always conquers all. She now lives in rural England with her young family.

Her books include, the adult Paranormal Romance novels ‘The Deadwood Hunter Series’ and the Young Adult series The New Dawn Novels, including the YA Best seller ‘Winter Wolf.’